


Easy As You

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Speakeasies, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "Pete/Gabe, trans*"</p><p>Which doesn't didn't ask for a 1920s underground queer speakeasy AU... but doesn't NOT ask for that either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy As You

There are speakeasies and then there are speakeasies. Gabe slips his hat off and makes his way to the bar, glancing around to get a sense of the place as he moves.

Travis vouched for him, or he wouldn’t have made it through the door at all. This is an underground club. Even more exclusive in its way than the clubs the rich fucks uptown call _members-only_ , because here they’re not trying to keep out riffraff, they’re trying to keep out people who are too conservative for anybody’s health.

_Speak_ easy _, friend_ , Gabe thinks as he sits down. _You’re safe here. Among your own kind. That’s the idea._

“What’ll it be?” asks the bartender, a tall woman dressed like a man: shirt, tie, waistcoat, suspenders, elegantly tailored trousers. She wears it better than he does.

“Gin,” he says, reaching for his wallet. “Don’t bother with the tonic.”

“Pay when you’re done, buddy,” she says, winking at him and turning to her bottles. “I can tell you’re going to be here a while.”

He nods and closes his eyes until he hears the soft click of the glass on the bar in front of him, and then her voice again. “You’re among friends, buddy. Lighten up, for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t be hard on him, Vic,” comes a soft voice, and Gabe opens his eyes. “He looks like he’s had a rough day.”

“Long day,” Gabe corrects, looking down the length of the bar. “But I don’t let the bastards get me down.”

Her giggle is as soft and whispery as her voice. Gabe’s seen her before, once or twice; always on the far side of the room, always moving. Travis was the only one who would give him her name.

_That’s Petey. You watching that ass? I thought so. She will wear you out. She will leave you wishing for your mama._

Gabe licks his lips. “Buy you a drink?”

“Thank you kindly.” She smiles, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Dark hair, heavy and thick in a bob that does Clara Bow proud, even if Petey’s smile is too wide to be an It girl. “Whiskey and soda, please, Vic.”

“I’m Gabe,” he says, offering his hand. She allows him to catch her fingers, kiss the backs of them, then withdraws with another giggle.

“Petey. But I bet you knew that. I heard you’ve been asking about me.”

“I’ve only heard good things.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and he doesn’t bother being shy, just admires the silk stockings that climb up from her high heels and break just at the hem of her dress. It’s a little satin slip, none of the fringe or beads the girls who try too hard add on. Just the basics.

Vic puts Petey’s whiskey on the bar and winks at Gabe. “You’d better be ready to open your wallet for more than a drink for this one, buddy. Dinner at least. Dancing if you’re a gentleman.”

“Oh, he is,” Petey says. “I can tell.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Gabe reminds them. “I don’t know if I’m up for dancing.”

“You gotta offer me some kind of entertainment.” Petey rests her chin in her hand, staring at him with wide eyes. Her makeup is fucking impeccable. He wants to mess it up.

“I could tell you all about the revolution.”

“Ohh, a Communist.” Petey grins and moves to the stool next to his, pressing her knee against his thigh. “Tell me more.”

“A Red and a journalist.” He flashes his press pass. “And a Jew. And a bunch of other nasty words I won’t repeat in front of a lady.”

“You’re charming me left and right.” Pete flutters her eyelashes and leans in closer. He can smell whiskey and perfume and pomade, and under that, sweat and skin. The light in the club is just bright enough that he can see the little nicks along her jaw from using an old beat-up razor. He wants to kiss every one of them.

“Dinner, huh? Can I buy you dinner?”

“Yes.” She sits up and beams, all sweetness and innocence, like her other foot isn’t pressed up against his calf with her toes walking north along his inseam. “Vic, we’ll take a table for two.”

**

He takes her home, of course, once they’re both all warmed up from dinner and drinks and one slow dance to the little quartet that plays standards for quarters. Gabe walks Petey back to his place, arm in arm, guiding her around puddles and over the broken bit of sidewalk outside his building.

Her heels slip on the stairway and she leans against him, heavily enough that he thinks he can feel her heart pounding through her dress and the little jacket she put on when they left the club.

“You all right?” he asks, letting his arm curve around her waist. She closes her eyes for a moment and swallows hard, her throat bobbing under her strand of pearls.

“I think I’m a little tipsy.” She opens her eyes and flashes a smile. “That won’t do.”

“You need a coffee?”

“I need to be a _lot_ tipsy, baby.” She eases away from him and walks down the hall, strutting just enough that he knows she’s deliberately giving him an eyeful. “I hope you have some good stuff tucked away.”

“Course I do.” He follows and unlocks the door, watching her from under his lashes. “You do, too, I bet.”

Her eyes narrow a little. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Nothing.” He steps inside and gestures toward the sofa; it’s beat-up, but it’s clean. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get the bottle.”

She doesn’t come in, though, just stands in the hall. He looks at her and sees something terrible in her eyes, tired and disappointed. “I’m all girl, got it? If you’re gonna talk to me like I’m a liar, I’m going home.”

He holds his hands up, keys still dangling. “I didn’t mean it like that, Petey, I swear.”

“What did you mean it like, then?”

He tosses his keys down and takes a pack of cigarettes from the sideboard. “I was making an indecent innuendo about us going to bed together.”

“Oh.” She stands there for another moment, then lifts her chin, brushes her hair back, and comes inside. “That’s all right, then. Light me one of those.”

He lights her a cigarette, pours her a drink, and even puts a record on before he sits down beside her. A real gentleman, just like she’d said.

“Travis told me I should let you make indecent innuendos at me.” She blows smoke up toward the ceiling. “Said you know how to show a girl a good time.”

“I’m flattered.”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “You gonna do it, or you just gonna look at me all night?”

He laughs out loud and pinches his cigarette out, tossing the butt to the floor and then turning toward her, getting his hands on her waist and pulling her in close. “Ask me a little nicer than that.”

“Who said anything about me being nice?” She tosses her own cigarette away and settles herself straddling his lap, skirt riding up almost to her hips, exposing the tops of her stockings and the fabric of her underwear disappearing up between her thighs.

He traces his finger over the seam of her stocking and glances up at her face. “You’re the nicest girl I’ve had over in an age.”

“Now I’m flattered.” She reaches down and takes hold of his wrist, guiding his hand up under her skirt and between her legs, watching his face the whole time. He lets himself be directed, lets her settle his palm over the hot bulge tucked back under her drawers, and doesn’t look away.

Her voice is hoarse. “You should use your hand. And your mouth. I like that.”

“All right.” He rubs just a little, gently, watching how it makes her eyes narrow a little and her teeth slide against her lower lip. “You want to stay out here or go in the bedroom?”

“Is there a light in there?” She shifts her weight, just slightly, sliding against him not-quite-casually. “I like to be able to see.”

“There is. And a big bed. Lots of blankets.”

“Lots of pillows, too?”

“Two for each of us.”

She laughs, breathless now. “I think you mean three for me and one for you, mister.”

“All right.” He scoops her up and stands, carrying her to the bedroom and tossing her down on the bed, which isn’t anywhere like as fancy as he made it sound but will do. She lays back and laughs, spreading her pretty thighs, and he climbs up on the bed, taking one of her knees in each hand and leaning in to kiss and tongue her through the little slip of cotton between her legs, getting it wet and fine until she’s moaning and tossing her head against the pillows.

She’s sweaty and shaking when she’s done, looking up at him with eyes all wild in the middle of smudged dark makeup. Her lipstick’s smudged, too, wrecked, and he wonders if he can ask her for her mouth, if there’s any way to do that that might sound smooth or in control instead of wild.

But before he says anything, she licks her lips and reaches for him again, shifting to hike her skirt up even higher, exposing her hips and her belly. “Would you… rub on me, get right in there and just grind on me, god, I want to feel you, please.” The words are a tumble, a breathless rush, and he can’t even manage to say yes. He just nods and moves in, kissing at her neck while he lies down against her and pushes his dick up against the wet, slippery heat of her, the hard-soft space between her legs, and chases his own desperate need.

Her mouth is soft, after, and he kisses the last of the lipstick away, rolling over so she’s lying against his chest. She’s boneless and heavy and glorious against him. “If you’re not careful,” he mumbles, tracing the line of her collarbone to her shoulder, “I might keep you.”

She laughs, a throaty tired sound, and kisses just to the left of his mouth. “You couldn’t afford to keep me,” she says, wrapping her leg around both of his. “But I might let you try.”  



End file.
